


you're ripped at every edge (but you're a masterpiece).

by paleromantic



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, M/M, adam is sad, childhood best friends turned lovers anyone?, come get yall fluff, mentions of adams backstory (aka robert parrish can Catch These Hands), soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleromantic/pseuds/paleromantic
Summary: The woods that skirted the edges of Henrietta were alive. That’s what people said anyway, in hushed voices when they thought no one else could hear. Adam had gotten good at hearing what he wasn’t supposed to, though- whispers, creaking boards, his mother’s quiet sobs through the thin walls of their double-wide. It wasn’t an option, not listening to everything he could. People said the trees could talk, too. Adam had never heard that, but he wasn’t in the habit of believing things he heard around town without proof. His mother always smiled sadly and told him how mature he was for an eight year old. His father had just told him that if he was old enough to think, he was old enough to stay out of the damn way (for fuck sake).
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	you're ripped at every edge (but you're a masterpiece).

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This probably won't be updated frequently! I'm aiming to have it finished within a month or two though so lets see how That goes
> 
> Enjoy though!!! Thank you for reading.

The woods that skirted the edges of Henrietta were alive. That’s what people said anyway, in hushed voices when they thought no one else could hear. Adam had gotten good at hearing what he wasn’t supposed to, though- whispers, creaking boards, his mother’s quiet sobs through the thin walls of their double-wide. It wasn’t an option, not listening to everything he could. People said the trees could talk, too. Adam had never heard  _ that _ , but he wasn’t in the habit of believing things he heard around town without proof. His mother always smiled sadly and told him how mature he was for an eight-year-old. His father had just told him that if he was old enough to think, he was old enough to stay out of the damn way ( _ for fuck sake _ ).

Staying out of the way usually meant locking himself into his little shoebox room and trying to lose himself in a book, or leaving and getting as far away from his father as possible. He usually chose the latter, rather than the former- he could always read when he got back, anyways. He had a little torch that he hid under his pillow, and when he was in school he stole batteries from the battery recycling box in the hopes that they’d have a little bit of charge left. Either way, it was better to be outside during the day. 

Henrietta afternoons settled over the town like a warm blanket, broken only by the occasional breeze that helped to keep them all from overheating. Adam was sure that the houses in town had air conditioning- they didn’t have space for it even if they could afford it, but it sure would have been nice during the summer. It would be fine though, Adam knew that the heavy heat would subside almost as soon as he hit the forest, it usually did. 

The quiet coolness of the woods welcomed Adam in, and he easily navigated his way over mossy fallen trunks, brushing dangling vines out of his way. A bird took flight over his head, and for a moment- nothing more than a moment- he heard a whisper.

_ Ad meliora. _

Adam didn’t know what that meant, but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t English. Nevertheless, though, he exhaled a breath that he hadn’t realised he had been holding. The town had it wrong- these woods weren’t  _ scary _ . They were old, sure- older than Adam, older than Henrietta, maybe. But old didn’t always mean scary.

Adam kept walking.

The woods got slightly darker as Adam followed the slightly worn path, dapples of sunlight swaying as the wind stirred the branches above him, carrying quiet noises with it. Adam, not for the first time, got the feeling that he wasn’t alone there. He didn’t think anyone could really be alone in a place like this, but he felt more comforted than scared at that realisation.

A crack behind him got his attention and Adam spun on his heel, closing his eyes and bringing his hands up in front of him as a last-ditch effort at self-defence. Real self-defence would only make him mad, it would get mom hurt, it would-

“Are you okay?”

*

Ronan Lynch was a pirate for the day. He wasn’t a pirate often- he was an astronaut, an archaeologist on the hunt for some forgotten relic, a knight in shining armour looking for a prince in a tower. There weren’t any princes, though- he knew that he was pretty much alone in the woods unless his brothers came to look for him, but that was what make-believe was  _ for _ . 

The trees were noisy today. They were always noisy, but the wind helped them today and it created a nice white noise for Ronan to set his adventures to. The clearing he was in was his pirate ship, and Ronan had no shortage of toys to play with so he had brought his own pirate sword. There wasn’t anyone to fight, he knew that, but he had always had an overactive imagination. It wasn't hard to think of imaginary foes- he had seen movies of course, evil thieves and rival gangs, a cowboy that the town just wasn't big enough for. Ronan was good at imagining things, he always had been. His mother had even told him that he was too good sometimes.

He closed his eyes, took a breath and heard the trees hush around him. Smirking, he turned the sword over in his hands and turned around, swinging it in a wide arc and letting it fall back to flip it over his arm and grasp the handle again. Declan hated when he messed around with swords, he told him to take it  _ seriously _ . Ronan had made a habit of never taking anything seriously though, so he ignored it- like most things that Declan said to him.

Around him, the trees picked up again.

_ Novum amicum. _

Ronan opened his eyes and frowned. "What?"

_ Novum amicum.  _

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I heard you the first time."

The trees didn't decide to enlighten him any further, so Ronan stuck his sword in the ground and huffed. He'd have to find his new friend on his own, he supposed. Maybe it was a deer, or a rabbit. 

It wasn't hard to traverse the forest since Ronan spent so long there. His father always told him that the forest had a name, but nobody in Henrietta seemed to know it apart from him. Ronan did, though.

Cabeswater.

He kept walking, listening intently for any sound of movement, but he couldn't hear anything. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of colour, turning towards it. As he turned, his foot came down on a fallen branch, causing a crack that echoed in the quiet wood.

The flash of colour- a sleeve, Ronan quickly realised, moved further as a boy Ronan had never seen before raised his hands into small, yet hardy looking fists. Ronan blinked, stopping where he was.

"Are you okay?"

*

Adam opened his eyes and slowly dropped his fists. There was a boy standing a couple of feet away who hadn’t been there before, with dark curly hair and jeans that were slightly too long for him- they probably didn’t belong to him, maybe an older brother?- and as Adam stared at him, his face broke out in a warm smile. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice whistled a little, probably from the missing front tooth. “I just haven’t seen you here, before.”

"The woods are free, aren't they?" Adam blinked, affronted, before correcting his tone. His father hated it when he was rude. “I’m... exploring.”

The boy’s face lit up. “I  _ love _ exploring. Do you want to play? I’m Ronan, by the way.”

Adam had never really played before. He knew what it meant, of course. He wasn’t  _ stupid _ , he’d seen kids in his class playing ever since he had started in school and he’d always been encouraged to play with them, but that didn’t mean that the other kids allowed him. 

“You want to play with me.”

“That’s what I said isn’t it?” The boy- Ronan- smirked. “Is that a yes?”

Adam supposed it was. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do- his father had taken the week off work, saying that he had ‘so much to do around the house’. Adam had taken that to mean that he wasn’t welcome, and so he made himself scarce as much as possible. 

It wouldn’t  _ hurt _ , to play for a while. Even if it did, Adam was used to hurting. 

“... Sure.” 

Ronan nodded and then looked back through the trees. “Follow me.”

Adam watched him go, his battered canvas shoes grinding fallen leaves into the soil, and took a deep breath. The wind rushed in his ears, and he allowed himself to feel excited. He’d never had a friend before, especially not a friend who liked to  _ play _ . Of course, he didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself. Maybe Ronan would hate him. Maybe Adam would have to go home early after all. 

He hoped not. 


End file.
